


Just Our Side

by Shay_Moonsilk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Aziraphale gets a medal for work he didn't do, F/M, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Prohibition, Secret Relationship, The gentle sounds of Irving Berlin, speakeasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: It's the 1920's. Alcohol is 'out', which means it's more 'in' then ever before. Aziraphale and Crowley are sharing a hotel room to "save on rent" and take a night off together in New York City. A stolen moment together where they can pretend they don't have to answer to either of their sides, because they're on their own side.Written for the AZ Fell's "Love and Lust Through the Ages" Zine.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83
Collections: Love And Lust Through The Ages





	Just Our Side

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovely people! This is one of the stories I submitted for the "Love and Lust Through the Ages" Zine that was released a few months ago. We've been submitting stories now because we figured people could use a little distraction.

New York was an experience, and it was an experience that Aziraphale did not quite think he would ever really be used to. There was so much muck, and grime, and  _ dirt _ just  _ everywhere,  _ to say nothing of the freezing winds or harsh weather. 

But none of that was as deplorable as the  _ certificate. _

_ "In recognition for his exemplary work in the battle for the triumph of Heaven, the  _ _ Principality Aziraphale _ _ is to be rewarded for his efforts in  _ _ the Prohibition _ _ " _

A bloody  _ certificate _ . 

It had appeared in the windowsill of his hotel room at the Waldorf-Astoria, visible under pale moonlight. Beyond the window lay a small balcony that boasted a lovely view of the city. There was something wonderful to be said about New York at night, with the twinkling city lights, the view of the Hudson river. And the delicatessens! Such delicious hearty sandwiches, black and white cookies - oh the food was just  _ divine _ . 

"Oh, I know that face." 

Aziraphale bit back a smile. 

To save room -  _ only  _ to save room - he and the demon Crowley had decided to split a room. After the business with The Great War, both offices had set next check-ins for  _ years _ down the road, and both had decided to take advantage and go on a little holiday of their own. 

"What face is that?" Aziraphale asked, taking in the view of the city below. 

A pair of arms wrapped around him, and a familiar chin rested upon his shoulder. 

"You're thinking about food," Crowley said, "and in about a minute you're going to say," and here his voice took on a falsetto that was entirely contrary to Aziraphale's usual baritone, _ "Oh, dearest, I'm feeling a mite peckish, if you could be ever so kind as to-" _

No longer in a jovial mood, Aziraphale huffed and moved away from the demon's embrace. 

"Oh, come on," Crowley said, his tone gentling, "I don't mean it, you know I never do. Sometimes I just like to make a fuss."

"It's not you," Aziraphale said, and he held up the paper, "Just got a memo from the office."

Crowley took the paper, scanning it for a moment, and then giving a derisive snort. "Prohibition? They're giving you that? I thought getting credit for the French revolution was bad!"

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?" Aziraphale pouted, and Crowley bit back the urge to kiss that pout off his face. If heaven was in such a mind to send notes, then they knew where Aziraphale was. Which meant that they must be keeping an eye on him. 

Maybe one day they wouldn't need to hide away or keep to the shadows. Maybe one day they would be able to dine together openly, walk arm in arm. 

But not now. 

“Well,” Crowley said, drawing out the word, “If your office is giving you a,” and here his face valiantly did  _ not  _ twist into a smirk, “a  _ certificate,  _ it means we really do have something to celebrate.” 

Aziraphale gave another huff. “We can’t very well celebrate together. We’ve already ordered room service, and people will notice two men leaving the hotel together.”

“So maybe we aren’t two male shaped people tonight,” Crowley said, and bit back a smile. So, Aziraphale wanted to be tempted into going out? Luckily for them, temptations were his specialty. “Maybe, tonight, I would like to take my wife out.” 

And there it was - Aziraphale went pink at the idea. He was onto something, he was. 

“Well! I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aziraphale flustered, but the look on his face told Crowley another story entirely. 

“I disagree, angel,” He grinned. Crowley walked over to the ostentatious closet that came with the room, and opened the door with a flourish. He had made this purchase earlier, and was glad that he was getting a chance to roll it out in style. “Bought this earlier today, as a present to you for a good couple of years.” 

“Oh!” And that  _ look  _ that came over Aziraphale’s face at that - it could have sustained the demon for millenia to come - “Oh darling, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley said, sternly. He grabbed his own fedora, so it could hide the blush that threatened to take over his own face. “I’m tempting people to sin when they look at you, remember?” 

“Of course, of course,” Aziraphale waved him off, and walked closer to inspect the garments. They were perfect, of course, Crowley wouldn’t settle for less than the best for his angel. That consisted of silk organza of a rich sapphire hue, satin gloves, a headpiece that sparkled, complete with stockings and garters. It was pure decadence in clothing, all meant to complement Aziraphale’s form. Which, in Crowley’s opinion, was the perfect body type. 

“What say we paint the town, darlin’?” He grinned. 

Aziraphale grinned back at him. It didn’t take much for Aziraphale to change her effort, and shimmy into the dress Crowley had purchased for her. Only she looked so beautiful, so  _ delectable,  _ in her frills that he couldn’t stop his hands from wandering. They tumbled back into bed together, unable to keep away from each other. 

Crowley left the hotel quite some time later, for they couldn’t be seen leaving the hotel together. But if he just so _happened_ to do some demonic work at a nearby speakeasy, where a certain angel just so _happened_ to find him, then wasn’t it in his best interest to keep an eye on her? For Hell’s sake, of course. 

She had beaten him there. Aziraphale was a  _ vision _ in blue, perched on her barstool. There was a crowd around her, of course, of men that wanted to give her cigarette a light, buy her a drink, or take her home. But she didn’t have eyes for any of them. No. She only had eyes for him. 

“Crowley,” And it did something nice to a demon, made his insides flutter all pleasantly, to see her brighten when he caught her eye. 

“Lady Aziraphale,” He gave a low bow, and stood to greet her. She waved off the man who was closest, and he took that booth. 

“What’re we having, love?” He asked, taking a sip of the drink in front of her. 

“Sidecars,” She replied, and he called for a few more. The tune from the band changed, away from the upbeat number from before. It was a slow melody now. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, “Irving Berlin.”

It was. Crowley listened for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Always,” He said, naming the song. 

They watched as couples graced the floor, and moved together. Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. He took in the want that echoed in her face.

“Let me tempt you to a dance,” He said, offering his hand. She swallowed, nervously. 

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale said, “We can’t, they’ll see-”

“They won’t,” Crowley said, “You made the prohibition, remember? And heaven thinks you’re a man-shaped being somewhere,” and here his hand did a little  _ wiggle  _ to gesture into the unending ether, “elsewhere. They’re not looking for you here, so come take this night. With me. We can pretend there are no sides. Just our side.”

“Just our side,” She repeated, and Aziraphale took his hand. 

Neither of them were particularly accomplished dancers. Aziraphale had taken classes decades prior at a discreet gentleman’s club to learn a dance that had already gone out of fashion. Crowley was proficient at Disco, but Disco wasn’t going to be around for another fifty years, and thus, Crowley was not proficient at any sort of dance yet. But this wasn’t a tune that called for a set of moves. This was the sort of song that moved slowly, and the only requirement was that there would be two people who cared for one another and could move together, as one. 

Aziraphale was an angel, and Crowley was a demon. These were their natures, but they cared for one another. This truth kept them in each other’s orbit, and had kept them near each other since the very beginning. They always made sure to look out for one another, to lend a hand where needed. 

When Crowley got a false commendation for the Spanish Inquisition, or the French Revolution, Aziraphale was there to make sure he didn’t drink his sorrows away for the decade. And now, when Aziraphale was given a certificate, Crowley could be there for the angel. Both knew there was nothing wrong with a little drink, if it wasn’t too excess. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that heaven was rewarding the policing of enjoyment and criminalizing those who couldn’t.. And that wasn’t much better. People shouldn’t have to abstain from something if they knew how to manage it - it was the tree of knowledge all over again. If one could know the difference, where was the harm? It only pointed to how little heaven understood humanity, how little both their sides understood humanity, and each other. But they understood humanity, and Aziraphale understood Crowley, just as Crowley understood Aziraphale. And that would have to be enough. 

In the secret of that little club, hidden away from heaven, hell, and all the forces that would seek to keep them apart, they shared a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
